Mr Verloc, going out in the morning, left his shop nominally in charge of his brother-in-law. It could be done, because there was very little business at any time, and practically none at all before the evening. Mr Verloc cared but little about his ostensible business. And, moreover, his wife was in charge of his brother-in-law. The shop was small, and so was the house. It was one of those grimy brick houses which existed in large quantities before the era of reconstruction dawned upon London. The shop was a square box of a ...
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Mr Verloc, going out in the morning, left his shop nominally in charge of his brother-in-law. It could be done, because there was very little business at any time, and practically none at all before the evening. Mr Verloc cared but little about his ostensible business. And, moreover, his wife was in charge of his brother-in-law. The shop was small, and so was the house. It was one of those grimy brick houses which existed in large quantities before the era of reconstruction dawned upon London. The shop was a square box of a place, with the front glazed in small panes. In the daytime the door remained closed; in the evening it stood discreetly but suspiciously ajar. The window contained photographs of more or less undressed dancing girls; nondescript packages in wrappers like patent medicines; closed yellow paper envelopes, very flimsy, and marked two-and-six in heavy black figures; a few numbers of ancient French comic publications hung across a string as if to dry; a dingy blue china bowl, a casket of black wood, bottles of marking ink, and rubber stamps; a few books, with titles hinting at impropriety; a few apparently old copies of obscure newspapers, badly printed, with titles like The Torch, The Gong-rousing titles. And the two gas jets inside the panes were always turned low, either for economy's sake or for the sake of the customers. These customers were either very young men, who hung about the window for a time before slipping in suddenly; or men of a more mature age, but looking generally as if they were not in funds. - Taken from "The Secret Agent: A Simple Tale" written by Joseph Conrad
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Add this copy of The Secret Agent to cart. $31.75, good condition, Sold by Bonita rated 4.0 out of 5 stars, ships from Newport Coast, CA, UNITED STATES, published 2019 by Independently published.
Add this copy of The Secret Agent to cart. $59.97, new condition, Sold by Just one more Chapter, ships from Miramar, FL, UNITED STATES, published 2019 by Independently published.
Add this copy of The Secret Agent to cart. $61.28, new condition, Sold by Bonita rated 4.0 out of 5 stars, ships from Newport Coast, CA, UNITED STATES, published 2019 by Independently published.
This is an excellent novel. Unfortunately, after I ordered it, the seller discovered that he or she did not have the copy I ordered. Hence, I never saw the Folio Society edition, the one I wished for.
JBronson
May 8, 2007
The many reverberations of accidents
Another superbly written book from an author whose native language is not English. Here, ineptness has far-reaching consequences.
